


stumbled beginnings

by cosmya



Series: stumbled beginnings [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), First Time, M/M, aziraphale has one (1) orgasm and turns into a massive slut, improper use of miracles, service bottom crowley, tartan boxers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmya/pseuds/cosmya
Summary: It was one thing to kiss one’s friend, another to sit calmly next to one’s friend in one’s underwear, and another entirely to be not-so-casually ordered by one’s friend to take one’s underwear off.Aziraphale's had something of a personal sexual revolution. It's up to Crowley to deal with it.





	stumbled beginnings

The bookshop felt swelteringly warm.

“Erm…”

“Ah…”

Crowley swallowed. He was not sure how to begin, or how not to laugh at how odd it felt, or whether he should be doubting it all in the first place. Aziraphale’s expression showed none of that. Only eagerness.

It was an expression indicating that he was waiting for Crowley to sweep him off his feet and ravage him, actually. Crowley didn’t think he could do that. Crowley had not done anything resembling that in several centuries. Crowley may have been a demon, but he was not  _ that _ kind of demon.

He couldn’t tell Aziriphale no, however. This was something he had wanted, well, for  _ centuries _ , and all of his reasons for  _ not _ having sex with Aziraphale had vanished in one holy, horny instance. But old habits die hard, and Crowley was very old.

He looked around, deciding he didn’t feel right because of the scenery. The books were watching them, asking them  _ what on Earth are you doing, who are you, don’t you know who owns this place? _ like they were teenagers who’d broken in to have immoral relations in the shop of an absent owner who didn’t have a single security camera. 

Those damn books were wrong, though. Crowley took the angel by both of his hands. “I think we ought to go back to my place.”

Aziraphale grinned mischievously. “Oh, I’ve never been asked  _ that _ before. Not in  _ this _ way, I mean. I would be delighted.”

“You don’t have a bed,” Crowley explained, covering his real reasons for not wanting to fuck in the bookshop. “So it’s really the only option.” He pulled Aziraphale out of the shop and towards the Bentley.

Aziriphale, as always, wasn’t done talking. “This is good. Yes. Your place. I would love to, dear friend.”

“D’you think we should stop calling each other that?”

“What? Friend?”

“Do friends do this?”

The angel’s eyebrows shot up innocently. “I would like to. I’m not so sure what’s wrong with that. A little… playtime… between friends,” he added, slowly, as if he had to think deeply about what word accurately described their situation.

Crowley had to bite his tongue to keep himself from scowling. Friends. Always friends.  _ Just  _ friends, doing something Crowley had waited  _ ten pining centuries  _ to do. Totally wouldn’t cause him emotional distress or anything. In place of cursing, he sped off in the Bentley fast enough to scare Aziraphale for real.

(Even that didn’t work.)

They hadn’t been to Crowley’s place often lately. It was spotless, in a somewhat eerie way, and his plants were still so perfect as to look fake. Even so, it was a more appropriate place than the bookshop for them to sully themselves.

Silently they made their way to Crowley’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure whether Aziraphale had even been in here before, but he sat on the bed like he owned it. It was strange. Aziraphale had really blossomed after he’d… blossomed.

This was home. Crowley sat next to him, and suddenly, his fears vanished. He let his hand rest on Aziraphale’s thigh and felt its warmth, the soft wool of his pants, the goodness made corporeal. He needed to stop feeling so guilty all the time. This was what both of them wanted.

Aziraphale was moving much quicker, though, because he turned to Crowley and touched his neck; his expression was like he was looking at a particularly majestic meteor shower, the sort of wonder where one knows the beauty won’t last. It made Crowley smile sadly. He would make it last.

“What’s wrong?” asked Aziraphale.

“Nothing. I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed him. 

This time, it wasn’t a nervous peck, but a full, desiring kiss, courageous, the flavors of black tea and sweet honey mixing together. Crowley couldn’t stop himself from exploring the angel’s tongue with his own and heard a little sound of pleasure escape his throat, and all of his buried desire of the last millenium flooded back into him. Who needed wine?

When he had Crowley good and drunk, Aziraphale pulled away and started undressing his many layers. Crowley could only sit there and blink. Six thousand years, and not once had he seen more than twenty percent of the angel’s skin. He had been missing out. It glowed like a bright, faraway star - shining, beautiful, but not blinding. Only now Crowley was very close.

He ran his hands all over Aziraphale before he could fully undress, and they both laughed at how quickly this had progressed. Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s black shirt and unbuttoned his pants. They were one thing that he would not be able to get off without help, something he quickly realized with another smile that Crowley felt beneath his lips. This was awkward, yes, but awkwardly wonderful.

Once they were nearly naked, Aziraphale stopped. “Would you take your glasses off?”

Crowley twitched. But it was less of a nervous twitch and more of an anxious one of his hands upwards to slide them off his face. He put them on the bedside table.

“Better.”

Crowley agreed. He did have a question, though. He knew the answer, but he had to ask. “Aziraphale…” he said, pulling away, giggling a little, “what exactly where you doing with my body? Would you just… I want to hear you say it. If you can’t say it, it’s going to be hard to tell me what you want me to do to you, innit?”

“I…” He swallowed.

“You.”

“I… erm… I used… your…”

“For what?”

Aziraphale scrunched up his eyes. “Can I just show you?”

“I suppose.”

“Can you… take off your…”

“Do I have to do everything?” Crowley asked, but he happily complied, surprised that Aziraphale meant what he said, that he would show Crowley precisely what he did to his body with, well,  _ his  _ body. He didn’t even blush when he remembered he’d been wearing tartan boxers when they’d switched.

Aziraphale’s eyes bulged slightly, as did his own sleek pale silk undergarments. “Those off too, please,” he said politely.

Crowley felt a little odd at that suggestion. It was one thing to kiss one’s friend, another to sit calmly next to one’s friend in one’s underwear, and another entirely to be not-so-casually ordered by one’s friend to take one’s underwear off. That being said, Crowley wasn’t about to say no.

He slid them off quickly, thinking it would be better to just do the thing, and was rather relieved to find that he was neither fully hard nor fully soft. Fully hard would make Aziraphale think him some sort of depraved sex-demon, fully soft would make him think that Crowley wasn’t attracted to him at all, or else wasn’t interested in helping him out. This was a good start.

Gingerly, Aziraphale reached over, looking into Crowley’s eyes for permission all the while, and put his hand over his cock, waiting for a sign that Crowley would accept the offer. Crowley laughed. “You didn’t ask permission when you were in my body, did you? Get on with it, _old_ _pal_.”

Azirpahale got on with it. Oh, did he get on with it. How long had Crowley lasted when the angel had been inhabiting him? Surely longer than  _ that _ .

“Wonderful,” Aziraphale remarked. “Just like you looked when it was me doing it.”

“You looked in the mirror?” Crowley asked, perturbed, but he was also exhausted, so it came out as somewhat of a gasp.

“Well, of course. I was in your body, not mine. I’ve been looking at you for so long, Crowley. It was about time I saw a side of you I hadn’t seen before.”

Crowley was silent. Crowley was touched.

“And can I…” he said, slowly, “can I see the same in you? If you’d like me to?”

Aziraphale’s smile could’ve moved mountains. “Please, would you?”

“Like this?” he asked, motioning towards the same simple stroking motion he’d just been at the mercy of.

“Actually,” Aziraphale said. “I was wondering what it might be like to… couple. You know. Erm.”

Crowley forced himself not to laugh. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I have broken the rules so many times that I’m no longer sure exactly what they are. But no. I don’t think so. We’re not a man and a woman, for one.”

“Proud of you, angel. Top or bottom?”

“Excuse me?” It was immediately clear that Aziraphale was not yet versed in the lingo of Earth-dwelling sexual culture. Not that Crowley was, but he didn’t live under a rock. 

“The giving end, or the receiving one?”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“You hadn’t thought about that.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale sat and thought for a moment. He appeared to work through many different courses of action in succession before deciding upon one. “Giving, I think. If you don’t mind.”

Crowley smiled. He didn’t mind. He preferred it that way. A wave of memories from an earlier life flooded into him. He’d liked it every which way, but this was how he wanted Aziraphale right now, and the idea of making the angel stretch out his asshole via a miracle tickled a part of him that had lay dormant for a very long time.

When he asked for that in particular, Aziraphale’s stunned expression was enough to make this all worth it.

“You’ll have to. Unless you want  _ me _ to do it the old-fashioned way, but that’ll take time. You seem unwilling to wait.”

The angel slowly came back to life, nodding slightly. “Yes, yes… I suppose… it feels  _ wrong _ , but you do have a point…” He snapped his fingers ostentatiously and with a lurch, Crowley felt a disused part of himself opening wide.

He scooted back on the bed and lay facing Aziraphale. The outline of his cock in the silk underwear was larger than Crowley had been expecting. “Wait…” he said. “Do you mind if I…”

Aziraphale’s eyes said yes, yes to anything, please,  _ please  _ do what you wish with me. So Crowley leaned forward, slid down the rest of the fabric covering Aziraphale up, and took his cock in his mouth without another word. 

He only sucked it for a moment, just enough to satisfy the craving, before pulling Aziraphale down by the hips to rest between his legs and lining him up. The angel looked at him expectantly.

“Is this what you want?” Crowley repeated.

Aziraphale cracked a smile; the sun split open and spread its shine over everything. “This is all I want.”

_ I hope not,  _ thought Crowley. Truly, there was only one thing that could take the low thought from his mind, and it was currently hovering over his very open ass, so he swallowed and said, “put it in.”

With the might of a warrior, Aziraphale rammed himself inside, and Crowley was deeply grateful for the miracle, because discorporation by sodomy was not on his list of to-do’s for the day. He scrunched his face up in surprise more than pain, and Aziraphale’s expression turned to concern. 

“Was that… too much?” he asked.

“No, no. Good. Really good. Back out now, then back in, until you’ve finished. Maybe go a bit slower.”

“Slower. Okay.” Aziraphale took the suggestion to heart, and suddenly, they were fucking deliberately,  _ romantically _ , the motion of Aziraphale’s hips like the heartbeat of the world, and Crowley moaned low in pleasure, eyes sinking shut into the bliss of his best friend’s cock working away inside of him, and took his own in hand, moving it in time with the angel’s pace. Aziraphale was more quiet, determined to get them both through to the pinnacle of all of this, but it wasn’t long before he, too, was panting and his pace increased, like keeping it slow and hot and delirious would make him come too soon. 

Crowley didn’t want to wait. They had waited long enough. He struggled to get words out. “I-it’s… okay. I need it,” he breathed.

“I do, too,” was Aziraphale’s pained response.

Crowley smiled and lifted his eyelids just enough to see the angel’s ruined face, so flushed and raw, nothing like Crowley had ever seen before. “We have all the time in the world,” he whispered. 

Aziraphale kissed his forehead. “I intend on using it the right way.”

Then, he sped up his pace once more, thudding into Crowley’s ass with abandon, and it was only a few moments before they both came, miraculously together, and it was worth every moment of abstinence before this, because this was  _ everything _ , sharing this and being this and feeling this divine pleasure coursing through the both of them. 

Aziraphale collapsed onto the bed next to him. They were silent for a moment, and then Crowley heard the angel sitting up and collecting himself.

“I-I’m sorry. I think I’ve got some inside of you. Should I get it out?” Aziraphale was clearly ready to perform a miracle to remove his spend from Crowley’s ass. This, for whatever reason, made Crowley laugh like he hadn’t in ages.

“No, no, leave it,” he choked out. He calmed himself down, amazed at the lengths Aziraphale would go for him. Maybe there was some hope. Maybe all of their love had been misunderstood for ages, and now they had a chance to sort it all out. At some point, Crowley would have to stem his friend’s horniness for long enough for them to talk about it. He didn’t think it was wise to wait anymore. His feelings were too insatiable, now that they’d been dragged out into the open.

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him deeply, tasting of a headier sweetness now, like a strong hot toddy on a cold day. “How long will it be before we can do that again?”

“Well,” Crowley speculated. “I think it’s like the wine. We sober up, and have another go.” 

“And would you like to do that now? I think I’d like to try the other way.”

Crowley chuckled again. “If you insist.”


End file.
